


Soaked

by nebuloz



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Statement Fic, it's not very bad b/c the narrator was 9 at the time but, script format is hard to write in, there is a non-graphic description of someone getting beat to hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 02:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17051033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebuloz/pseuds/nebuloz
Summary: Martin is organizing statements and finds a particularly interesting one about a strike in 1899. Somewhere, a recorder turns on.





	Soaked

**Author's Note:**

> okay so fun fact, this was originally a creative writing assignment for our horror unit that slowly morphed into tma fic, also it's like 70% me infodumping about the newsboy strike of 1899 cause it's special interest o'clock always. this is also shorter than i would have liked it to be but eh whatever. special thanks to Alllexia form the rq discord for beta'ing for me!! <3

_[We hear the click and whirr of a tape recorder turning on. Some shuffling papers, and then a man starts to speak.]_

Martin Blackwood, archival assistant at The Magnus Institute, recording statement number 946-25-05. Statement of Glen Marcello, given April twenty-fifth, nineteen-forty-six.

_[A pause, and then MARTIN takes a deep breath.]_

“I was nine when the strike started.

I had only been selling papes for about a year at that point, but dreary hours at school followed by longer hours at work on the harsh streets on New York forces a guy to grow up pretty fast; so I had already surpassed most of my peers in maturity. All this to say that while I was a pretty dumb kid in general, I wasn’t ignorant to what was happening and why.

“The strike happened in the summer of 1899, June, to be specific. I can’t remember the dates now, but it lasted about two weeks. It was one of the most successful newsies strikes in history, and I’m proud to say I was a part of it, however small.

“I remember it started up in Long Island when a group of guys who hawked for the Journal found out their delivery man had been cheating them with short bundles. They chased him outta town and ran off with his papes, told everyone they wouldn’t buy from Hearst or Pulitzer no more and called for a price rollback. Word spread fast to Manhattan and a union was formed, and soon Brooklyn got involved as well.

“I lived in Brooklyn, which meant that was where I sold, and even though I had folks I’d often stay at the newsboy lodge just to hang out with the guys and make food expenses easier on the family. The leaders of the Brooklyn newsies were Spot Conlon and Racetrack Higgins, and what leaders they were. Charming, funny, brave, and so protective of the younger boys you’d think they were everyone’s older brothers. They got on like a house on fire, and were practically glued to each other unless they had to split up for diplomatic duties. I remember Race had a particular soft spot for me, though now I couldn’t tell you why. We were both Italian, so maybe he liked having someone to talk the language with.

“Anyway. The early days of the strike were real tense and real exciting, but nothing real weird started happening until the second week. Maybe it started earlier; I ain’t too sure. Like I said, I sold in Brooklyn, and all this weirdness happened mainly over in Manhattan.

“If anyone was caught selling the boycotted papers, his papes would be torn up and he would get ‘soaked.’ Soaking had two different meanings, one in the very literal sense where you would throw water on someone; the second meaning to beat the bejeebers out of whichever poor sucker was your target, which is what it was most commonly referring to in casual conversation.

“In the beginning it was more literal soaking as an intimidation tactic. One of my most vivid memories from the strike is following Race, Spot and a couple other Brooklyn Boys around with a pail of water and cup, hunting for people selling. As time went on though, fellas started getting more and more violent; going as far as breaking one scabber’s arm, although that’s about as bad as it got. They never hurt anyone so bad they wouldn’t recover in a couple weeks, mostly it seemed like they were beating on people for the sake of it. Like they got some sick thrill out of feeling someone's lip split under their fist.

“I only saw it happen once, but stories and rumors spread crazy fast through newsies, so once was enough. Racetrack was visiting a friend of his in Manhattan, Albert DeSilva, to see how things were going and catch up, and I was tagging along. It was just the three of us, as Spot was doing similar check-ins in Midtown. We were walking by Central Park when we spotted some poor fool who had caved to bribes from Hearst or Pulitzer and was out hawking headlines. Albert stopped dead in his tracks and we watched as a gang of Manhattan boys approached from his other side. We were too far away to hear more than incoherent shouts, but the intent was clear.

“I hadn’t been to Manhattan enough to know my way around, but I had been there enough with Race to recognize a few faces. Among the group was Kid Blink, the Manhattan leader and face of the strike, his partner in crime Mush Meyers, and one of Albert’s friends Crutchy Morris. Crutchy, as I learned later, had a gimp leg from getting polio as a kid, and used a crutch to get around, hence the nickname. There were three or four others, but I didn’t know them well enough to name.

“It didn’t take long for punches to start flying. After a couple fruitless attempts to defend himself the guy caught selling was socked in the jaw by Kid Blink while Mush started shredding his papes. The other guys jeered and laughed as the kid started going down and slowly started to close in.

“This wasn’t too strange at first, Blink and Mush were known to be a little hot-tempered and a fella getting beat for selling was a common tactic. Blink had a nasty sneer and a weird look in his eye, but that alone wasn’t enough to make my skin crawl and my knees feel like they would give out.

_[Confusion creeps into MARTIN’s words.]_

“What really got to me was Crutchy. I hadn’t spoken to him more than twice, but he was one of the sweetest guys I had ever met. He was soft spoken and polite and always seemed to have a smile on his face. Right then though, he was almost unrecognizable. His face was twisted into a snarl and his eyes were glazed over like Blink’s into a crazed, almost hungry sort of glare. I had never seen him even mildly annoyed, but the man before me was practically vicious. It was hard to believe they could possibly be the same person.

“He tripped the kid with his crutch and started whacking him in the ribs. The other boys joined in, laying into this poor guy with kicks and jabs. They were almost hysteric, seeming desperate for any contact or reaction from him. It couldn’t have lasted more than a minute, but it felt like an age. I don’t know how else to describe it other than gang hysteria, it was almost like they were possessed. _[MARTIN’s tone grows distressed, and he begins to talk faster.]_ Every newsie was prone to a little rough disagreement, but they didn’t stop until the poor bastard was bruised and bloody, too sore to stand.

“We stood there until they left and the scabber was left groaning and clutching his head. Albert was shaky and pale, his fists clenched at his side. His face was blank and hard to read, and nervous energy radiated off him in waves. I couldn’t tell if he was shocked, or fascinated; and I ignored a needling voice in the back of my head telling me he almost looked jealous. He muttered a hasty farewell, saying he needed to take care of something and shot off after the other Manhattan newsies. I was gripping Race’s hand so hard I couldn’t feel my own, and I’m sure the expression of horrified shock he wore was mirrored on my face. I don’t remember reaching out for his hand. When we finally turned to leave my legs were still shaking too bad to walk, so he carried me back to Brooklyn.

“I stayed at the lodge that night. I was too afraid to sleep alone away from the fellas, and I even asked if I could sleep with Race and Spot. Thankfully, they said yes. Despite everything though, I still tossed and turned between them, scared to close my eyes lest I relive my afternoon. The looks on their faces, their crazed eyes, the sickening cracks of skin on skin haunted me, and I feigned sick the next day and stayed at the lodge.

_[MARTIN’s tone slowly returns to normal, and we hear a page being turned.]_

“Similar stories were heard all over, of some unfortunate sap getting caught selling or taking bribes and getting beat within an inch of consciousness by a group of unusually vicious Manhattan boys. After the first couple times people started getting smarter about being lured in by false promises from the newspapers, but the incidents didn’t slow down. After the scabbers stopped coming, they started beating on anyone who gave them an excuse, and even each other. It happened often enough that at the Irving Hall rally, the president of the union addressed the strange behaviour and urged everyone to find less violent ways of dealing with traitors and what not. Nothing much came of it though

“The weirdest part, to me, is after the strike was settled everything stopped. Fellas still got soaked on occasion, but for all the normal reasons and without any of the mass hysterics. I don’t know how else to describe it, It was like nothing ever happened.

“I still don’t know what to make of it, and I was always too afraid to ask. All I know is that as far as I’m aware; nothing like it had happened before and nothing has since. I’ve stopped worrying about it to be honest, plenty of weirder stuff has happened in New York.”

Statement ends.

_[MARTIN sighs, and we hear the soft rustle of paper being set down.]_

W-well. Certainly an interesting one. I think I’ve heard of this strike before, they based a couple musicals off it. They’re quite good, actually, I had a friend who was obsessed with them in high school who showed the movie to me once.

All the historical information seems to check out, the newsboy strike of 1899 is a documented event, and all the names the statement giver provided were real people involved with the strike.

Glen Marcello did indeed live and sell in Brooklyn, he had just finished 3rd grade a couple months before the event. There’s no possibility for a follow-up, as he died in nineteen-seventy-one. I hunted around for more details on the actual ‘soaking’ tactics used during the strike and unfortunately couldn’t find much, but there was one article that mentioned the early days of the strike were quite violent and that David Simmons, president of the union, did call for a cease on unnecessary violence at both the Irving Hall rally and a few other early gatherings.

Other than that there’s actually not much, it’s frustratingly ill-documented for an event centering around newspapers. I read something saying Pulitzer issued a blackout on strike news a few days in, so I guess that makes sense, but still.

As far as what I think, it reminds me of the mass hysteria that happened during the Salem Witch Trials. I hesitate to say the area it happened wasn’t all too far away as well, I’m rubbish at American geography. Similar symptoms of crazed intensity were described during the Trials and, similarly, seemed to vanish once the events were resolved. I can’t imagine what may have caused it though, I’ll have Jon look into it as well when he gets back; he may have more of an insight to this sort of thing.

_[There is a beat of silence, as if MARTIN has run out of things to say. It stretches almost long enough to be awkward.]_

That’s about it then, I suppose. Um, recording ends.

_[We hear a click, and then the background whirring that has continued throughout the recording stops, leaving us in silence to contemplate what we have just heard and what they may mean to us.]_

**Author's Note:**

> tysm for reading!! this is the second fic i've finished ever and the first thing i've written for tma, so sorry if martin's a little ooc cause like i said before this is lowkey mostly an infodump abt my favorite historical event. i may write some more for this fandom in the future if i have any more ideas, comments+kudos are much loved!!


End file.
